"In order to more fully explore and pursue my solo career, I've decided to end my musical relationship with Ween. I want to personally thank each and every fan for all their love and support through the years."- Aaron Freeman - 29.05.2012
Hardly the best start of a Thursday for me. Apparently the Mayans were right: it's 2012 and some worlds are indeed ending. But let us not allow the mucus to trickle down our chins for too long before realizing that, among other things, we've always loved Ween because they did exactly what they damn well pleased all the time and this is exactly what they are doing right now. Well, at least Aaron is. Judging by Mickey's reaction on Facebook - "This is news to me, all I can say for now I guess." - he hasn't been part of the decision-making process. You catch some, you lose some, I guess.
The thing is, without Ween around, the musical scene is really really boring. God only knows if I'll still be around to see another band like this ever emerging from this dyslexic gooey mush. But hey, we'll always have Berlin, where Aaron asked me up on stage and I didn't hear him. That was particularly special for me and my special fucking needs.
The first song I ever heard was "Spinal Meningitis", back in 90-something, and the chills down my spine have never ceased since. I have preached the Boognish dogma for as long as I can remember and have even converted a few adorably misguided individuals to the Brown Belief, some of whom still percieved Goran Bregovic or any DJ as musical history's most tumescent pillars. That is quite an achievment, if I do say so myself. It was amazing to watch the transformation, the eyes getting rounder, the grin getting wider, the mud getting hosed off the brain, a new world unfolding and all that. It's a beautiful thing.
Ween is the only band I have ever held "close to my chest". I wouldn't share Ween with just anybody. I felt you had to earn it. I would go absolutely crazy when some random douche would just name-drop Ween 5 minutes after I'd mentioned them to him, just to impress some random chick with a pink straw up her face. And - this actually happened - the idiot wouldn't even manage to say the name right, he'd say "When". My mind just fills with bazookas and pirahnas in moments like this.
On the other hand, I feel like a thousand doves and butterflies when I play a compilation with various artists in the car and some unsuspecting passanger (whom I suspect is prone to brownness) will invariably ask "Who's this?" when we get to the Ween song. Someone always will, because it's that kind of band.
Ok, now with that out of the way:
GENER SOLO.
No Ween, just Aaron, brand new first solo album called
MARVELOUS CLOUDS
out in April.
Here's Aaron and the cover:
I'm not sure if this is the cover for the album or for the single and who cares really.
Now here's the tracklist:
As I Love My Own
Jean
Marvelous Clouds
A Man Alone
The Beautiful Strangers
Doesn't Anybody Know My Name
One By One
Pushing The Clouds
The Lovers
Mr. Kelly
Love's Been Good To Me
Lonesome Cities
The World I Used To Know
Beautiful. To be honest, I'm expecting sentimental fluffy shit, most of it, which I'm gonna love anyway, not because it's Gene we're talking about and I swallow any crap from him, but because he IS indeed Gene and Gene very rarely comes up with crap, no matter how mooshy it may sound.
Details about the album HERE, I'm not gonna re-write the whole thing like I'm telling something new.
So here's the trailer for the album as well. Looks action-packed.
Wait, what? You knew this? You sneaky little...argh. Alright, we'll talk home, you do the dishes.
So, turns out that this track (on which we've all made out at one point or another and which all Patton fans are surely sick of) was not written by Faith No More after all. I just found out. It was written by Lionel Richie, way back in 19something. He was part of the group Commodores, which I've always confused with The Communards and so gasped in awe at the idea that Jimmy Somerville might have come up with a song like this. But no, we're ok, he didn't. Richie and his gang, who used to open for the Jackson 5, wrote this. It all makes sense now, doesn't it?
And what was I doing checking out The Commodores? Well...what? I do like Motown stuff and...I'm a Lionel Richie fan? Alright, alright, I'm not. But it might interest you that another pretty cool band took some interest in The Commmodores some years back, so much so that they designed their '94 album cover as a tribute to them. Drum-fucking-roll, prrrrrrrrrr oh, nevermind, you've already seen it:
Shit, you know, I might as well turn this into a Ween blog and call it a day. I can't help it. I tend to rediscover this band over and over, at least once a year, and I've known them for...what? 16 years now? The first song I ever heard from them was "Spinal Meningitis (got me down)" and it was recommended by a friend who'd assured me it would make me "sick and soft at the same time". It did. I listened to the whole album and I was floored. I was into Red Hot Chili Peppers at the time, thought Flea was God and Anthony a man, mind you, so the stretch from that to Ween was going to be, theoretically, not an easy one. But I eased right in, for I was so inclined. Then Pure Guava came next, the same friend gave it to me somewhat reluctantly: he didn't think I was ready for it. Oh, I was so ready. I fucking danced to "Mourning Glory"!
Recently, Mickey gave us this sweet present: "Caesar demos" - the Quebec outtakes. The following song is from this collection. Now let me see, how many gay songs do Ween have?
1. Homo Rainbow
2. Mr. Richard Smoker
3. Slow Down Boy (Let him blow you...........away" LMFAO! My other favorite Gene pause being "could you smell my whole......life")
4. Boys Club (?)
5. If you ask me, "Dancing In The Show Tonight" sounds pretty gay too. Sung by either a 12 yrs old boy or an 88 yrs old grandpa, both of which are not even aware they're so gay, but they so are.
6. And now this, "Ambrosia Parsley", an obvious and friendly stab at Prince, formerly known as an artist.
Now, I'm not sure this one was intended to sound gay, maybe it was supposed to just be sexy, maybe he's still licking a pussy and not sucking a cock, but when you hear Gener whispering "David, I wanna get naked" (that's what he says, right?) and then "Heavy on the cream, soaking down your mountain top", err..well, you kinda sport some doubts.
Just for fun, try this: imagine the dance scene in "Fifteen Feet of Pure White Snow" while this song is playing. Am I right? Is it fabulous or what? Oh, somebody should definitely do that.
And, dude, hold on a sec: David? Not Dave Dreiwitz! Say it ain't so. I draw a blank trying to imagine Dave having sex. I love that guy and I've been told that impossible is nothing, but I just can't go there. And maybe that's healthy.
Oh, just now I notice the obvious: this is the Billie Jean beat. It actually starts like Billie Jean, but then the bass takes it elsewhere. Now that's another thing that doesn't help the gay vibe much.
I'm sorry, was that in bad taste?
But see, that's just the thing with these guys: you can't get offended. They mean no harm. They have no beef with anyone and fight for no turf, there's nothing to prove. It's all fun. I mean, they've definitely not been coy about things like AIDS, child death, all kinds of sex, race, drugs, misogyny, sick ponies, you name it. They spelled it right out, loud and clear. But you can't get offended because it's never malicious, never crude.
Ween - Ambrosia Parsley
I have also recently fell in love with the live version of Jonny. Much rockier than the original, while the lyrics remain just as weird.
And "A Tear For Eddie" has been on repeat in my head for weeks and weeks now.
Ween - I'll Be Your Jonny On Th' Spot (live Chicago)
Excerpt from an imaginary conversation with one real dushbag.
HIM (condescending): Of course, you and your Ween thing...It's a band, you know, Christ...
ME: I am well aware of how it sounds: childish, teenage-ish, puberal. It's not. It's not a little 15 kind of thing with these guys. It's not like you listen to, God knows what, "Enter Sandman" at 18 and feel oh so abused and like you've already seen it all. Or you listen to any goddamn Placebo song and think it's so cool to be jaded, used, bored in such a sexy, sleazy manner. God, I loathe those assholes....
Listen. I listen to a lot of music, okay? a lot. And I'm 35, I'm not prone to drooling over some guy in goth make-up anymore. There's gotta be a lot more behind that make-up, preferably a brain. And definitely a soul. For me, now, after listening to tons and tons of music, there's Ween and then there's everybody else. They've got their own thing and no one else has it, it's unique. For instance, I love Nick Cave with all my heart, right? I respect, admire and love the guy. He's cool, old school way, Humphrey Bogart shit. And yet, dude, Ween gives me so much more. There's humor in there, sometimes subtle and sometimes crass, but it's there and it comes from a whole 'nother level of understanding. There's wisdom, there's poetry, there's beauty, there's childishness, there's sickness, tenderness, everything. And then there's the brilliance to combine all these in the perfectly right amounts.
Ah, fuck it, I can't describe it you, it cannot be described. You either feel it or you don't. This is not the kind of band you just mention casually, you know, like "hey, check these guys out, they're awesome". No. It really gets on my nerves when some asshole peeks into my playlist and says their name out loud for everyone to hear because I feel you have to earn Ween, you know. You gotta dig, gotta rumage a little, gotta listen and actually get them, their feel. I know it's silly, but I can afford it. You, for instance, let's say for the sake of argument, you could listen to all their albums and, sorry, still wouldn't get it. You're not wired for that. And that's not an insult, necessary, it's just a shame, you don't know what you're missing. But, please, don't condescent me. You don't know this, but it's like telling a child who'd just built the Colloseum out of cubes that you're proud of him for making them stand one on top of the other, such a flair for balance, and so colorful, here's a lollypop. Kinda makes you wonder who the silly child is. Yeah, I cry at goddamn movies, I even cried reading a comic book once, shit, but it's cool, it's ok, because there are no rules. Crying doesn't make you less of a man, just like jingling your Hummer keys around does not make you more of a man. Life, people are weird like that, they have whims and shitty jokes and bad days and loveable weaknesses...and Ween get that.
I mean, FUCK, I know this song from 94 and it still fucking tears me apart.
There's really not much I can do about it, I always go back to them. The other day I watched "The Social Network" - an otherwise fairly boring film - NOT because Trent did the soundtrack, but because Jesse Eisenberg is a declared Ween fan. He's not much into music, not his thing, but he does own each and every Ween album. I had to see it, you see?
These two puppies are taken from the White Pepper Outtakes, a small compilation I have ignored for far too long. I don't know how I managed to skip over "Belvedine" all this time, I really don't. But here it is now. They seem to have had a baroque period at some point, maybe a week or two, but it left its mark. Did you know that "Ice Castles" was supposed to be called "Baroque Jam"? Haha. I mean 'baroque' and 'jam' put together. Ween...Sweeney Todd's got nothing on these guys.
"Wash Me Down" reminds me of "Sarah", slow and tender and shot full of morphine. I don't know how they chose between this and (probably) "She's Your Baby", they're both amazing.
p.s. Do read the tiny writing on those pictures above. The "future plans" part is both hilarious and true.
All is not brown in Boognish town, apparently. Well, the internet bulged a little vein one night after Ween tried a gig in Vancouver in January. Ween's trademark when it comes to live shows and life in general is that pretty much anything goes, take the wrecking ball and shoot some hoops kind of thing. In Vancouver the wrecking ball broke the hoop apparently. Gene was planting daisies on his own planet all evening, completely out of it. He fucked up most of the lyrics, his voice was a squeaky toy gang-banged by rottweilers, could barely stand up and, all in all, was a total downer and embarrassment for the rest of the band. Consequently, the rest of the band walked off stage and left him there hanging by the strings of his long since out of tune guitar. To his credit, Gene did not give up, he singlehandedly showed everybody how to properly hit rock 'n' roll bottom. He continued playing by himself until the brownness of it reminded everyone of shit.
Now, I admit, I was scared when I read this. I thought, not you too, Gener. No, no, no, nonononono, you're not pushing any daisies on my watch. Or while I'm watching, anyway. These guys helped me a lot. A Lot. I can't imagine me being the way I am (and I'm fine, thank you), without them. This band is pure gold and it would be, not a shame, it would be ILLEGAL to lose them in such pathetic, predictable, pitiful way. A boring "Lead singer chokes on his own vomit" type of headline would be...fucking grey. Not that Ween is about headlines, but you know what I mean. So I was pretty sad about this, but then finally thought that maybe this was a one-off thing , not a binge. He got funny that particular night, maybe some weird Vancouver hybrid pot or something, but otherwise he's fine.
(This is just one example, it takes forever for Gene to start with the lyrics and when he does, he fucks it up. Unfortunately there's a lot more on YouTube.)
And so it was, thank god. Gene was fine in Portland two days later. Phew! He's not fine-fine, he was never fine to begin with, look at the lyrics, look at transformations his body goes through every five years or so - fat-skinny-fat-skinny. Look at his eyes. But I knew this, I was and am ok with this. Hell, Ween would not be Ween without him being this fucked up. I always admired his way of dealing with traumas, through his music. Well, music just wasn't enough that night, I guess. But in Portland they rocked. Check out this little baby, Gene goes all suicidal rock star doing Nirvana's 'Heart Shaped Box'. I would laugh if I weren't still a little worried. Hang in there, Aaron.
I'm gonna do something I've never done here: take a closer look at an entire album, song by song. I'm not going to pretend this is a professional review, none of the thoughts here on this blog have anything to do with professionalism. You don't listen to music through a stethoscope.
The album is La Cucaracha, by, yes yes yes, Ween. Why? Because I had thought it was a bad album (by Ween standards) when in fact it is a great one. The chasm between the two concepts is vast enough to make me feel quite silly indeed.
Two keep this short - pfff! - I'm gonna plunge right into it.
1. Fiesta
This song kicks off the album right into the deepest brownness. It's so idiotically enthusiastic with those trumpets buzzing like drunken flies around the purest Spaniard turd, you can't help going "Ole!" every time it finishes (it's on repeat, cause it's kinda short.) I love it that at some point it has a very electronic DJ-ish sort of drone for about a split second that always makes me fantasize about what would Trent Reznor be like if he were ever in a good mood. It's not my favorite song on the album - to say nothing of the entire Ween discography - but it is the kind of song Ween would choose for an appetizer, to set the mood of the album, only to change it 2 minutes later...
2. Blue balloon
...with "Blue Balloon". This little song is nothing less than charming. When I listen to it, the phrase "a stroll in the park" comes to mind. But it's Ween, so it's more like a "a stroll in the pork" (which incidentally is an album by Pig, but he's a meanie, he wouldn't even know how to spell "park".) The great thing about Ween is that they have a knack for taking the dreariest and most banal themes and turn them into pure gold. This one sounds like a casual, uncomplicated song. A devil-may-care tune, the dandy song. But the little details glow in the dark like those weird fluorescent algae on the seaside and adorn this childish, playful tune with perfectly choreographed sparks of brilliance. The bass line - so melancholic. Those percussion (?) sounds (I don't even know what that is) - they sound like a fairy bouncing off the walls. And those mewing balloon sounds, albeit fart-sounding too, make the whole thing float right off into the brown dimension
3. Friends
Now, remember kids, you've gotta have a sense of humor to appreciate these boys. And a weird one at that. "Friends" may sound like Technotronic to you - and this is exactly the point where most people recoil with horror and dismiss Ween: a joke band, and a bad one - but think about it: would Technotronic ever come up with a lyric like "scary to think that I could be happy"? No. To be fair, they might have come up with "a friend's a friend who knows what being a friend is", but Ween's tongue bursts through the cheek like an alien on this one, I feel. Ween have been known to tinker and tamper with musical genres like a cat on acid with imaginary mice. This is a funny joke, but you need some of their weed to get it.
4. Object
OMG! No really: OMFG! Forget the mood swings on this album (and all others), but after "Friends" this one hits you in the kidney like a soap in a wet sock. This is one of THE Ween songs. It's Spinal Meningitis, it's Don't Get 2 Close, it's Happy Colored Marbles, it's Mutilated Lips. Sick & sweet. It's brown sugar-coated gangrene, Ween special recipe. Gene delivers, as usual, the ugliest images in his most tender, loving voice. It's like that torture scene in Audition, he's a sadist, but he kills you with a piano string. And he toys with you. Again! Oh, the lyrics on this one! This song is immaculately demented. And the ending: "I'm gonna do something wrong. Nobody's gonna like it. [...] I feel a little better. They found your sweater. You're just an object to me." Murder! Sister Dew! This song is like the creepy, soulless, empty child who's just stabbed his little sister, puts make up on her and uses her for a Barbie doll at his pretend tea party, while the other guests are his stuffed chihuahua and a piece of string. Jesus. I love this song. I'd like to paint like this song.
5. Learnin to love
After "Object", this is brutal. This feels like a leftover from 12 Golden Country Greats. Redneck extravaganza, clap yo' greasy hands and stomp your raggedy boots, it's hee-haw time.
Not a favorite. Musically it's fine, the boys do know their instruments, we know that. The easiness with which they jump from techno to country is, as always, mind blowing. It's just that...spitting tobacco through empty purple gums isn't really my thing. But I will say this: I would love to watch Christopher Walken dance to this, especially that interlude which...I don't know what it reminds me of. Broadway musical? Burlesque show? A cover of "Feeling good" done by Rednex? Banjo hero? I don't know, but it sounds awfully (and I do mean awfully) familiar. You know what? What the hell, throw some Fred Astaire in there too, let's see what happens.
6. With my own bare hands
This must be Mickey's baby, it's too macho for Aaron. It's a moistboy holler. It's the kind of song Tenacious D would listen to and think 'Hey, we can do this, too!" To bad they lack the subtlety and brilliance. This is pure rock stripped of all the glamor, but not necessarily a masterpiece. Not one of my favorites either, but - and I can't stress this enough - with Ween it's different. Since they so bravely, candidly and systematically satirize each and every musical style on this planet, and since it's so hard to tell where the caricature ends and the tribute begins, I am and will always accept everything these guys have to offer and enjoy it for what it is, nothing less and nothing more. Ween, to me, is the very definition of creative freedom and freedom in general. Do whatever the fuck you want to do, enjoy it and chill. If they would ever do a Celine Dion type of song, I would damn well cherish it. They manage to paste a Ween layer on everything they touch and that makes even the lamest song sound, not bearable, but good. And those are the bad Ween songs. The rest are great.
7. The fruit man
Like I said, any genre. This is Ween dreaming in green, yellow and black. It's reggae even Bob Marley would wake up and say "what the fuck was in that spliff, man?"
My background: I loathe reggae. Fact: I love this song. It's like fishing for golden fish in a honey jar. While your ass floats above your head. My god, these guys must smoke good stuff. "King Billy" on the Friends EP must have been a draft for this song. It must have come out of the same joint, anyway. And I'm glad they fished even further, because "King Billy" is a great song (the voice, oh the voice), but this one is holiday all the way. Listen to those sounds hanging to the tune like ornaments in a fucked up Christmas tree. The clicks and clangs and whistles, it's the exact image of the perforated sense of memory you have when you've just smoked your brains out. It's like stubs and splinters of memories are raining from the sky all around you and you can't focus on any of it if your life depended on it. You don't need a joint for this song, the song is the joint.
8. Spirit walker
Now...this one's too weird for words. This song could only be possible if Cher was a mermaid (which, despite what she thinks, she is not) and would bang her head on a coral reef and the blood bubbles surfacing the water would pop and be filled with random, strange lyrics. I'm not even gonna touch this one, this song is not on this album. But in a good way.
9. Shamemaker
If not for the lyrics, this song would be the perfect soundtrack for a Pacman game, if that game ever needed a soundtrack. It's like a three little piggies cartoon, working working working, till the big bad wolf comes and shames them with a blow. It's probably a great karaoke choice, there not much singing involved. I could have done without this one, but I'm not complaining. And what's that voice he's doing? it sounds like something from somewhere.
10. Sweetheart
If my memory wouldn't be so, ahem, selective, I could probably be able to tell what or whom this song sounds like. It sounds like a goldie oldie, doesn't it? The kind of tune our parents used to dance to on that cliff before jumping... If I were to do a video for this song, that's how I would do it. Humphrey Bogart and Audrey Hepburn would drive around in a convertible, her scarf would be blowing in the wind, his glasses would be black and his cigarette would be almost out. They would be in love and be looking for a place to picnic. They would kiss like they did in the 60s, miss a curve and fly off a cliff. The lovey-dovey part of the story would last 30 seconds tops, while the flying off a cliff part would last the remaining 2.45 min, in slow motion. With details such as pancakes flying around, lipstick smeared, muted horrified screams, scarf getting caught in a tree branch somehow with her left brutally strangled in that tree while Humphrey continues to fall towards his rocky doom. Then, right before the explosion, we cut to them having a perfect picnic and the same gesture repeats itself like a broken record: she wiping a bit of jam from the corner of his mouth and licking it off her finger like cat. Over and over again. Ad lib to fade. It's in the lyrics, I'm telling you.
11. Lullaby
Finally a genuinely tender one. I think. This doesn't sound like a cruel joke, this could actually be sung by a mum to her sleepy baby. It's beautiful. It's hard to believe that the same guys who wrote "With my own bare hands" wrote this one as well, but there's Ween for you. It reminds me of Radiohead's "I will", it's very gentle. There's a regretful, sorrowful tone to it, but the baby doesn't know that. Actually, I don't think it's about sleeping babies at all. It may be a lullaby for the dying, gently placing them onto the other side of existence, who the hell knows. Look at me all deep. I don't know, man, it's very soothing. It's the warm glass of milk of the album, makes you go all fetal.
12. Woman and man
They recorded, what was it, 500 minutes of this song or something, because their producer and long time friend, Andrew Weiss, insisted that it should be done in one take. But the result is flaming, man, it kicks tons of ass. It's like riding a wild horse. Makes you wanna watch westerns 24 hours straight. If you are so inclined. I'm not. However, I do like this song. It's out there, whipping the winds, throwing fire bolts, summoning weird looking gods and all sorts of other antics like that. Mickey must have slept a week after this one. Jimi Hendrix, Frank Zappa and Eric Burdon would be proud. Bold Geronimo stuff. I don't know what those porn-party samples at the end have to do with anything, but a good sample should be used, always.
13. Your party
Oh wow. Another deceiving, seemingly lame song, but in all actuality a pretty great one indeed. Perfect closer. That saxophone reminds me of Scorsese films from the 70s. Okay, maybe a Scorsese film starring Candy Dulfer and no machine guns. There's a very cheesy note to this song, Lily is indeed here, all over the place. But! The last verse pretty much floors me:
Later on when we were under the covers
I closed my eyes, then I drifted to sleep
I dreamt about me maybe throwing a party
And just how great that would be.
I don't know, maybe's just me, but this crude, child-like honesty, this humble admission of entertaining a dream, the smallest dream ever, it's just disarming. Even asleep, in a dream, a place where everything and anything is permitted, he says "maybe." All this in contrast with the opulence of the party they've just returned from, golden plates and everything. This song says so much, just like its brother "If you could save yourself (you'd save us all)". If you've got ears and a trace of soul. I retract the "no machine guns" thing, this song kills.
So there you go. Not as short as you might have hoped.
Of course there are better Ween albums I could have picked. By all accounts that I am aware of, Chocolate & Cheese is their perfect album, their Abbey Road, their Trout Mask Replica, their Dark Side Of The Moon and their, yes, Thriller. I can't be so sure. It's really hard to choose between Chocolate & Cheese and The Mollusk. Thank God I don't have to. You tell me the difference between greatness and excellence. And "The Argus" isn't even on any of those two. I mean it's really hard. But I felt I really didn't do justice to this one, I let it feel like the ugly duckling and that wasn't fair.
You know what? It takes guts to like Ween, I mean really like and really understand. Sometimes it feels like coming out of the closet and admitting you enjoy wearing a bra under your Rammstein T-shirt. Sometimes you can feel quite stupid laughing at a joke no one else seems to get, you start thinking maybe there's something wrong with you. But music and artists should be free, the freest. And, as an artist, if you don't allow yourself the freedom to do anything that goes through your head, no matter how silly it may seem, you're dead. Which goes just as well for the fans. If you don't allow yourself to take pleasure from something as silly, but humorous and good, as "Don't laugh (I love you)" or "Pollo Asado", for instance, then you're nothing but an elitist, stiff, arrogant, frustrated, self-conscious prick who should listen to The Killers (and why not, Porcupine Tree) all day long and never get out. You know who you are.
Plowing my way through Captain Beefheart who, incidentally, just died this past December, 17th. I'm not listening to him because he's dead, I think it's more like the other way around. I'll be back in a century or two. Till then:
I just got this in the mail today - Ween: All Request Live 2003 - and it just happened to have a little extra something on it: this video. It was shot with a webcam, as the concert was transmitted live on internet. The playlist was voted by the fans and of course it turned out pretty weird, carefully avoiding all the song everybody was dying to hear. Because that's how hardcore Ween fans tend to be, they need to prove how hardcore they are by picking out songs so obscure even Gene and Dean can't remember ever writing them. But hey. As Gene puts it, "this shit was free so don't fucking complain." I'm not fucking complaining, I'm fucking loving it.
This band is like menstruation to me. But in a good way. I periodically forget how incredibly good they are and then I periodically remember. Just like legal holidays or something. Or joy, for that matter.
And here I am sniped again by the boognish in the bushes.
I've only seen them live once (because their siamese ass seems to be reluctant and lazy when it comes to flying over to Europe. I dare not dream of ever seeing them here in Bucharest. But Vienna? Budapest? Prague? Berlin??), but I'll treasure that experience forever. I think I redefined the notion of "front-row", as I was practically inside the speakers and kissing Gene's feet. They are amazing live. They are amazing in the studio as well. And it's not just that they kick fucking ass on stage, but this is the friendliest band I've ever seen. I mean I've met others after the show and they were cool too, but on stage? Not many bands (that I've seen) manage to be so relaxed on stage and forget about the clock, and the contract, and the fatigue and all that, and just jam. Feel good and make the audience feel good. It's about the music, remember? They do. When they came out on stage they both seemed drained, finished, especially Gene, who looked like an over-licked lollipop. I thought this was gonna be the shortest gig I'd ever attend, half an hour and then the ambulances. But they rocked for two hours or more. I heard that once, at another gig, the encore was two hours alone. Cause they just felt like it. How cool is that? To say nothing of the music.
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